A Resistance of Resent
by Celestrious
Summary: Pre-TFA for now. Petra Adhara is a Resistance medic who is known for her quick thinking and careful skill. When tragedy strikes she must learn to fight the darkness inside herself and forgive others and herself for the horrific events that occur during a period of war. [Work-in-progress that will include more in the future]
1. Chapter 1

Any attempt on attacking The First Order meant a whole new batch of wounded soldiers and pilots. Of course it bothered her somewhere deep down inside to see fellow members of the Resistance hurt or even dying, but by the stoic look on her face one could tell she'd seen plenty of it. It was her job and she told herself there was no use getting overly emotional when there were people who needed her. She had to remind herself a lot lately. People were relying on her to work quickly and accurately.

There were other people working in the medical ward of the Resistance base on D'Qar, of course, as well as quite a few medical droids who assisted frequently and made things go more smoothly, but Petra Adhara knew what she was doing and there was a lot on her plate because of that. There was a lot on everyone's plate with the Resistance.

The worst part of her job was sitting and waiting. There was near silence except for the distant hum of machines somewhere outside. Dane Reznor, a fellow human medic, began to straighten the sheets on one of the beds. Petra had known him long enough to recognize this as a nervous trait. They were ready, but they didn't really know if they were _ready_. There was no real way of knowing how many injured resistance members to expect until they came back. Many or few, they needed to be prepared as best they could and now that they were all they could do was wait and hope for the best.

It was time for the silence to break. Petra listened for her assignment from Apoch, the medical leader. Minor injuries were mainly the expectation today. That's what she'd be working on. Back to silence.

They waited there for what seemed like forever. Her mind began to wander. She knew she needed to focus. Recently it had been so difficult.

The doors burst open and Petra was jolted from her thoughts, pushing herself forward from where she'd been leaning against the cold wall and rushing forward to assist the wounded. There weren't a lot of them, but most were X-Wing fighters in their orange jumpsuits, a few still wearing their helmets painted with the familiar symbol of the Resistance.

"Here, let me help you." Petra called above the noise that had replaced the silence.

She put her hand on the fighter's back, guiding them toward a bed on the far left of the room where they sat down.

Petra instinctively reached for the fighter's helmet, unfortunately reaching at the same time as them. Their fingers met for a second and Petra pulled the helmet off carefully, quickly moving her fingers away from there's. The face revealed to her was not one she'd expected and she had to consciously keep her expression from falling. She hadn't known who to expect exactly, but it hadn't been Commander Poe Dameron.

She didn't think he knew her, but everyone knew him. In fact, she didn't think he'd even ever been in the medical ward before. Maybe she just didn't remember or hadn't been the one to treat him. It was likely. She saw so many faces in and out of the ward all the time. Petra never forgot their eyes though. She'd never seen these eyes up close, dark brown, but bright and full of a fire she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Commander Dameron." she stated, turning quickly to grab for a first aid kit that she'd strategically placed there earlier for this particular use. "Are you experiencing any pain?"

"Just my face. I don't think it's very serious." He replied gesturing to cuts that littered his dirty visage. "It was crazy out there today. I think we-"

"Um, I'm sorry, can you stop talking for a moment?" Petra interrupted and he complied. There was no way for her to do her job properly with him carrying on.

Petra reached up with an antiseptic cloth to wipe at the blood around his nose and on his cheek. He winced.

"There's glass…" she mumbled, reaching for the tweezer-like tool.

"Woah, woah, I think I'm fine. I'll just…" Poe stammered, attempting to stand up. Petra stood in his way though.

"Do you want it to get infected? Trust me, I don't think you do."

Poe's mouth flattened to a thin line. She was right and he knew it.

Petra leaned forward to pick out a few tiny shards of glass from the cut that ran along his jawline. She'd seen it more often than not. All it took was the crack of a cockpit's windshield and even a helmet couldn't stop the little pieces of glass from finding their way to a pilot's face.

When she'd finished he gave her a funny smile, opening his mouth, but then shutting it quickly, remembering what she'd told him about keeping quiet.

"You can talk now." Petra said, prepping a small bandaid with ointment for the cut on his cheek. "I know you're busy, but I'd like to keep an eye on that slice you've got down your jaw."

"Thanks." He nodded, allowing her to put the bandaid on before pressing it on firmer himself.

"That's what I'm here for." She replied coldly before letting out a soft sigh.

Poe stared at her for a few seconds longer than he likely should've, his mind trying to place where he'd seen her in the past, before running a hand through his hair and grabbing his helmet from where Petra had put it beside him.

"Well, I'll be back when I can…um…" he faltered, gesturing to her.

"Petra Adhara." She replied, raising her dark eyebrows slightly.

"Adhara…that name sounds familiar."

"That's probably because-"

Before she could finish, static came over Poe's radio. Someone was calling him.

"I have to get going, I'm needed somewhere and I'm sure you're busy as well." He told her, getting up and giving her a respectful nod as he passed. "It was nice meeting you and thanks again!" he called, pointing to the bandaid on his face as he went through the automatic doors.

So he hadn't recognized her. It was just as she'd expected, and in a way, she felt she was better off with him not knowing who she was.

As soon as he left Petra glanced around to see if there was anyone else in need of assistance. There didn't seem to be. Dane came to stand next to her.

"Was that Commander Dameron?"

"Yeah."

"Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Dane let out a snort.

"We should start cleaning the equipment before we change shifts. The droids can take care of those still in need of care for now unless Apoch wants us to stay. I can come back later tonight." Petra told him, changing the subject.

"I can take the night check. You've handled a lot recently."

A pang of sadness filled Petra's heart. She knew what he was talking about. It'd been nearly a month ago, but the wound was still fresh. It was funny to her how emotional wounds could be as bad as physical ones, maybe even more so.

"No, it's fine. I like checking on the patients. JO-2 will be here with me anyway."

Petra's eyes stayed fixated upon the door. She crossed her arms across her chest. Much of her life had been a war zone. All this fighting for peace, but it was still a fight. She saw it so often, the side of the Resistance many didn't see. Freedom always came at a price. Lives were lost, lives that hadn't even been given the chance to live, and the grief. The grief was the worst. It gnawed at a person until there was nothing left.

"I'll come in too then." Dane suggested suddenly.

"No, it's fine I can-"

"I'm going to come in." he insisted and Petra blinked several times before offering an almost smile.

"Adhara, Reznor, you're free to head to the dining hall if you wish." Came the warm, yet stern voice of Apoch. She'd been running the medical ward since before Petra had arrived. Jahara Apoch and Dane Reznor were the ones who taught her what she knew. She picked things up quickly due to their careful instruction and was now easily one of the best medics in the Resistance.

Not that that mattered to her. It didn't. Many things mattered to Petra Adhara, but being well-known was not one of them. In fact, now more than ever she wished she could simply sink into the background.

Petra felt a hand on her shoulder. She found herself glancing back to see Dane looking at her expectantly. She must've lost her focus again.

"What?"

"I was just saying we can go now if you'd like to." He told her, squeezing her shoulder gently.

"Oh, yeah, ok." she nodded, but her focus was still gone and the events of the day had pushed it even further away and out of reach.


	2. Chapter 2

Nightmares always came in the earliest hours of the morning. They started with the jolting of T-70 X-Wing under heavy fire, a pilot under the heavy weight of his duty. A radio transmission that cut off to nothing but a cry of pain and static. The handing over of a helmet cracked and stained with blood still as bright as the starbird that graced it in decoration and symbolism of the cause for which he fought, for which they all fought. The imagery of a loved one broken and lost, never to return from the clutches of death. He was always there too, in the background, eyes cast to the ground saying there was nothing they could've done.

They hadn't tried hard enough. _He_ hadn't tried hard enough. Had he even tried at all? Petra wondered this often when she awoke in shivers from the nightmares that haunted her sleep. She gritted her teeth and curled her fingers into fists. In these instances there was more anger than sadness. She knew he wasn't coming back now. She could deny it no longer. There was an empty place next to her when she slept. No more stories of daring escapes and hits that only Poe Dameron and the rest of the squadron could make. It was all taken from her in a snap of the fingers.

She questioned whether it was selfish of her to think about him so much, to think about the future they could've had together. She of all people knew the sacrifice of the Resistance. She wasn't the only one to have lost someone of importance.

Maybe it was the way he'd always described the closeness of the X-Wing fighters. The way they always had each other's backs. The way they saved one another. How had they simply left him for dead?

Petra rose from the bed and crossed the room, blue light filtering in the shades of the window and spreading across the floor and onto her feet and legs as she walked. She stopped in front of the mirror, raising her gaze to look herself in the eyes. Who was she without him? Someone, but not the same someone she once was.

Her hands rose to cover her face and the immense sense of loss and sadness began to rise to her throat. She never let them see her pain. Every day she was surrounded by the lost and hurting, it'd be wrong of her show weakness around them. She needed to be strong.

Now is when she'd crack. Now is when she'd break. It was ok here because she was alone. She liked the sense of control over her own emotions she'd managed to keep at least until she was by herself.

Today had presented a challenge though. She'd almost done it. She'd almost confronted him today. She'd almost grabbed him by the throat and demanded to know why her boyfriend hadn't come home and he had. Did he think nothing of it? He hadn't recognized her, or so she thought.

Petra knew she had to begin to move on from this. She'd never forget, but there was simply no time to dwell on the pain. She never wanted to see Poe Dameron again. Seeing him was a constant reminder of what was lost and she couldn't let it compromise her ability to do her job. She needed to avoid him, at least, that's what she thought.

Her mind wandered again, this time to the helmet that sat tucked away beneath the bed. Petra moved from where she stood by the mirror, kneeling down, hands trembling as she took the cracked helmet from its place and hot tears streamed down her cheeks. For a moment she hated the Resistance. She hated it with everything inside her. Petra knew she couldn't afford to think that way, but the thoughts persisted yet.

In his own room Poe Dameron sat up that night, mulling over the angular face of the medic with the large brown eyes and hair to match, until it dawned on him. He let out a long sigh, letting his left hand rub across his face and linger over his mouth for a while. He knew she'd refused to see him when it'd first happened. It's not like he would've known what to say anyway. The hotshot pilot had never really been good with talking through serious subjects. He'd never really been good with words in that way. Besides, he missed him too. He was not just a comrade, but also a friend, a member of the family.

Now he almost regretted not insisting to speak with her when it had happened. How horrible he must've seemed in the medical ward today, not even knowing who she was at first. The more he thought about it, the more surprised he was she hadn't tried to break his nose even more than it was already messed up. Memories flooded back to him. Theon…Jett Theon, that'd been his name. He remembered Petra Adhara more clearly now, or at least through the eyes of Jett. Everything he'd said about her was true. She was beautiful and smart and to the point. Those eyes pierced him somehow.

A pain rose in his stomach. Jett was gone now. Panic came to take the place of the pain and Poe's entire body stooped forward, his arms resting on his knees and his head buried in his arms. The day was definitely not forgotten. They'd been having radio communication issues. Not only between pilots, but even with base. In fact, they still hadn't figured out whether it was some freak incident or whether The First Order had somehow managed to hack them. The problem hadn't occurred again after that day. It'd been an _isolated_ incident, if anything.

Needless to say the only recovery he'd been able to make was the bloodied helmet of the lost fighter. It was a bigger blow to him than he'd let on. He would've done more, if only he could've. The idea that he may have been able to save Jett Theon toyed with his mind in more ways than one. Poe had prided himself on the closeness and camaraderie between his squadron and not only had he let himself down, he'd let others down. He'd let Jett down to his death. _He'd_ let it happen. Now, thanks to him, others were suffering and it tore him apart.

He wouldn't let them see that though. They all needed to see their motivated happy-go-lucky commander always ready to fight for what he believed in. He needed to lift their spirits, give them hope, not burden them with his internal struggles.

In these ways, Petra and Poe shared a lot besides just the first letter of their name. They faced the expectations of everyone around them and when they faltered, they hid their feelings.

The Resistance was built on teamwork and mutual understanding. They all fought for the same cause, a common goal, but what could they be without the basis for their duty? Trust is a powerful thing and without it, even the greatest have the ability to fall and fall fast. Both Petra Adhara and Poe Dameron knew that. Even the best can fall to darkness and even the brightest can't fix every problem in this or any universe no matter how hard they try.

The night had closed in on the both of them as they each sat in their respective silences. Neither slept, both ending the final minutes until dawn thinking of the other.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:** Ok, I feel like I've been a little rude not to give an author's note when we're already a couple chapters in, so, hello, glad to see some of you seem to be enjoying the story so far. I used to write fanfiction a long time ago and seeing The Force Awakens kind of inspired me to write some things again. Also I love Poe Dameron. He and BB-8 are my favorite characters from the new Star Wars film. This isn't meant to be a story for hatred against Poe, I promise lol. Anyways, feel free to leave a review if you wish to. I'm updating fast lately since I'm inspired and am on my Christmas vacation so I'm taking advantage of this and am trying to update my stories quickly. Merry Christmas, happy holidays to everyone, and may the force be with you! :)_

* * *

In the morning, a groggy Poe Dameron made a beeline for the medical ward. He ran a hand over his tired face and up through his messy brown hair, passing quickly through the halls in a manner that wasn't characteristic of him. Usually Poe was the one stopping everyone to tell a quick joke or dish out a compliment as he passed, but today was different. Today he was on a mission of sorts and the determined look in his eyes was telling of his mood. No one would dare try to interrupt a serious Poe Dameron.

The early hours had been going more smoothly for Petra than she'd suspected. Dane could sense something disquieting in her behavior though. He'd worked with her too long not to be able to tell when there was something wrong. Recently he'd summed a lot of her strange behaviors up to simply being a product of the grief she was experiencing in her life, but this felt different. She felt so cold, even to him. Her lips had remained pursed and though she'd been kind to the patients she'd tended to, there was a faraway look in her eyes that was undeniable.

"Petra?" Dane asked softly when she was setting up more first aid kits.

"Hmm?"

"Are you feeling ok?"

Petra turned to look at him, eyebrows coming together and knitting into one. She nodded vigorous, turning back to the kits.

"Nightmares?" He continued hesitantly, green eyes still focused on her, hands fiddling with the first aid kits.

Petra put down the bandage she was rolling up and looked him in the eyes, titling her head to one side. "Who here doesn't have nightmares?"

She picked up some of the finished kits in her arms and turned away from him to head across the room and place them on one of the supply shelves. There was a note of something like bitter spite in her voice and it wasn't something he'd ever gotten from her before. They'd always been friends, ever since she'd arrived. What was this new flavor of disdain coming from her? Maybe he shouldn't have brought up the nightmares. Petra made a good point though. There were likely more Resistance members waking up in the middle of the night due to trauma than there were not.

Dane Reznor reached up to straighten his shirt's collar with a short sigh and a promise to himself not to bring that subject up to Petra again unless she mentioned it first.

Meanwhile, Poe stood just outside the automatic doors, taking a deep breath and promising himself to bring something up that he should've a month ago.

When he summoned enough courage to step through the doors, Petra's head turned and she caught a glimpse of exactly who she did not want to see. Hands still on the supply shelf, she blinked twice and her face began to darken, light eyes growing stormy and neutral expression melting to a scowl.

"Petra!" Poe called out to her, voice breathy and more broken sounding than he'd expected it to be.

"What are you doing here? I treated you yesterday; you don't need to come back yet." She replied automatically, shaking her head and letting her hands fall from the supply shelf and slowly return to either side of her body.

"I know, that's not what I'm here for I need to-"

"Please go. Unless you need medical assistance which I'm sure someone else would be happy to give you, but I can't. I'm busy and I have to-"

Her eyes had gone to the floor. She couldn't look at him. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to talk to him. She wanted nothing to do with him.

Poe continued to walk forward though until he was in arm's reach of the young woman. He reached forward to gently take her forearm.

"No, Petra please, this is very important we need to talk about-"

"Don't touch me!" she yelled, yanking her arm out of his grasp. "Don't touch me!" Petra repeated, her eyes welling up with tears.

Poe stood there, his face contorted in a look of shock and despair, his hand still in the air, reaching out for a touch she obviously did not want.

"This is your fault." she spat, pointing at him and taking a shaky breath before a sob erupted from her lungs. "Don't you dare…don't you dare…" Petra repeated, her voice growing softer and the sobs growing louder.

Poe's eyes stayed on Petra. He was frozen. This was not at all how he had intended for this to turn out. This wasn't what he wanted and a pang of guilt hit him in the chest.

Dane rushed over to scoop Petra into his arms and was surprised when she didn't fight him. She took hold of his shirt, fingers curling around the fabric and buried her face deeply into him. He rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment, one arm around her shoulders, the other on her long braided hair. He glanced over at Poe and both shared a look of understanding. It would be best if he left.

Commander Dameron gave a few quick nods to Dane Reznor and turned away slowly, walking back out the way he came and biting his lip to hold back how he felt. He hadn't known she'd react so sharply to his return. She'd seemed relatively docile towards him the previous day and had even invited him back to check up on his cuts and bruises. That was her job, he knew that, but still.

It wasn't long before Poe found himself walking through one of the hangars, BB-8 trailing close behind him. Petra's words had stuck to his mind like alcohol to a drinker's breath. He couldn't _not_ think about what she'd said.

"I just don't know what to do." he explained, hands grabbing at his hair in frustration. "She won't even talk to me now BB-8. You remember Jett…"

Poe let out a yell of aggravation before taking a deep breath, coming up upon his T-70 X-Wing and turning to look down at BB-8.

"I guess the best thing to do would be to give her space for now. What do you think?"

BB-8 let out a whirl of agreement.

In the medical ward, Dane had guided Petra to a quiet corner down the hall. Luckily there hadn't been many patients in the ward at the time and Apoch had suggested Dane take her elsewhere to get some water and calm down a bit.

"Feeling any better now?" he asked her, taking the empty water cup from her hand.

"I don't know." came Petra's quiet answer, her voice sounded hoarse now and she wrapped her arms around herself like she was trying to stay warm.

Petra knew she shouldn't have lashed out like that. There had been so much bottled up inside of her that it was only a matter of time before the cork she'd been sitting on completely burst.

She began to sniffle again and Dane reached a gentle hand forward to wipe a tear from her soft cheek. "Hey, hey, you're ok. You're strong, stronger than anyone I know." he told her and when she averted her eyes, he pulled her chin up so that her gaze focused on him. "Listen to me. I'm serious. You're brave and you can get through this."

"I hate him. I hate him and I hate this place. I hate the Resistance." she whimpered and something in Dane's green eyes changed.

"Don't say that Petra. Don't say that." His voice was darker now. "Fight that feeling with all that's in you. Don't let it win. That's not you. You know it's not you."

"I don't know anymore. I don't know who I am." Petra broke again and instinctively reached forward.

Dane's arms enveloped her again and he rested his cheek on the top of her head, golden hair meeting chestnut.

"You know who you are. Just don't allow yourself to forget."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** _Hello everyone. I hope you've all been enjoying the holidays. I have some news that has also been featured in the author's note of my other story. Some of you might be following along that story, Necessary Repairs, or may have read my one-shot, but in the foreseeable future I plan to begin writing a new fanfiction featuring a different OC that will end up having some Poe/OC action as well as themes from my one-shot, which should be fun. That story will be a lot longer than this one and Necessary Repairs, not really in terms of chapter length, but in terms of how many chapters it will be. These are my warm up fics preparing me to write the new one lol. I also have a poll on my profile for you to help me choose a name for my OC. Anyways, leave a review if you'd like to and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for your support and may the Force be with you. :)_

* * *

Poe never returned to the medical ward to get the cut on his jaw checked on. Two weeks had passed since the conflict between Petra and Poe and in that time things around the Resistance base had grown even more busy than before. The calm before the storm had ended and the unrest between the First Order and the Resistance began to pick up speed once more.

Petra walked down the hallway toward the medical ward, still a bit drowsy from the few hours of sleep she'd gotten. It was early morning and she hadn't expected to find many people up and walking the halls. A warm drink was clasped in her hands. The steam seeped into the air and left a sticky heat on her face. It didn't really bother her though. In fact, it felt sort of nice. It felt nice to feel anything.

An immense guilt was on her heart. She was still bitter about what had happened and still had a great deal of disdain for Poe Dameron, but guilt weighed her down. She was part of the Resistance. She'd chosen this path for herself and she'd known the risks before she began her work. It was wrong of her to go against a comrade so violently like she had.

Jett wouldn't have wanted her to be acting this way. Petra let out a long sigh, her footsteps the only sound as she continued through the grey halls of cement floors and walls, bright lights lining the ceiling. They'd met in the medical ward. He, like Poe, had had an injury. Jett's had been worse. He'd had a broken arm and had spent much more time in the ward. Petra had taken care of him. The whole ordeal seemed so long ago to her now. It had been long ago, but not as long ago as it felt. It seemed like just yesterday he'd taken her in his arm and waltz with her outside in the moonlight. He'd asked her to marry him and she'd said yes.

The sound of footsteps heavier than her own jolted Petra from her reverie. Someone was coming up behind her.

Poe Dameron had decided to go for an early morning jaunt with BB-8 in his X-Wing. In the mornings there were very few people awake aside from those stationed in the command center. Most of the pilots were asleep and he could go out with ease for a while and come back refreshed for the day. He'd needed a lot of refreshing lately. He needed to stay focused and sharp. He was a leader.

When he saw the long, brown braid swishing back and forth up ahead he instantly knew who it was. She was dressed in tan pants and a burgundy shirt, sleeves long and buttoned at the end. For a moment he wanted to turn the opposite direction. He certainly hadn't forgotten what had happened between them, but he wasn't looking forward to having another conflict, especially not so early in the morning.

Poe's decision was made for him when BB-8 hurried ahead of him, beeping and whirling and calling him a coward for slowing down.

"BB-8 get back here!" he called through gritted teeth, his voice echoing even though he wasn't speaking very loudly.

Usually with many voices all speaking at once, the halls didn't reverberate the sound nearly as well as they did when only one person was talking. Poe silently cursed himself for saying anything at all.

Petra stopped and turned when she heard the familiar voice and her eyes caught sight of BB-8. The little droid rolled up to her and looked from her to Poe, then back again.

"Hello." Petra spoke softly, the traces of a smile on her lips. She didn't care for his master, but there was no use being spiteful towards the droid. BB-8 had done no wrong.

Poe jogged up the girl and the droid, helmet under his arm.

"Uh, sorry if he disturbed-"

"It's ok. He didn't." Petra interjected before Poe could form a complete sentence. Her eyes were still fixed upon BB-8.

Jett's BB unit hadn't made it through the crash. Perhaps if it had survived it would've softened the blow slightly. Watching BB-8 made her miss them both so much.

When Petra finally summoned the courage to look up at Poe, her eyes were a bit misty.

"Well, we should probably go…" he said, giving a stern look to BB-8, who shook his head at his master.

"Oh, of course. Sorry." Petra replied, lifting the cup in her hands to her mouth for a moment to take a sip of the drink before allowing her dark eyes to flick upward to meet his. His eyes didn't keep her attention for very long though because she noticed the cut across his jaw. It was red.

Poe felt her gaze upon him and realized what she was staring at. "Oh! I never came back. I got busy I'm sorry."

BB-8 gave a noise resembling a snort and Poe scowled at his friend.

"You could come back now if you're not busy. It doesn't look very good." Petra replied calmly. If there was one thing that bothered her most it was someone with a problem she could fix.

Poe Dameron's eyes widened at her suggestion and he nodded. "Yeah, sure, if you don't mind."

Petra took one hand from her cup to wave for him to follow her.

"I feel like I should apologize." Poe stated abruptly as they began walking.

"Can we have this conversation later?" Petra asked, her voice quick and cold, but when she looked over at him he didn't see a look of anger, but one of desperation and he understood.

"Did you go out flying this morning?" she asked him. The question had an obvious answer considering the way he was dressed, but he answered politely anyway.

"Yeah, BB-8 and I went out for a spin. Keeps us both on top of things." he explained with a shrug.

The two turned the corner and Poe hesitated when they reached the doors of the medical ward before following Petra inside. It was quiet and JO-2 was organizing in the corner. Poe found himself sitting down on the same bed that he had the other time Petra had helped him and she took his helmet again and placed it in the same spot next to him.

This time, unlike the last, Poe remained silent, eyes following the woman's nimble hands as she pulled out another antiseptic wipe.

"This might hurt."

"I'm fine."

Petra reached forward to wipe the cut and she felt Poe jump slightly under her touch. It wasn't her fault. _He_ was the one who never came back for further treatment.

BB-8 stayed nearby, watching the two humans intently.

"My past visits me some times to remind me that I'm not ok. It reminds me I'm still hurting." Petra said softly, putting down the wipe and reaching for some ointment. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you that way." she added, shaking her head as if to clear the bad thoughts away.

Poe's eyes never strayed from her and he smiled gently. "No, it's ok. Sometimes I think I could use a bit of a lashing."

Petra couldn't help but snicker a bit at his response and seeing her laugh made Poe feel a bit better. Petra used her finger to apply the ointment to the cut and stepped back before heading to the sink nearby to wash her hands.

Something felt lighter inside Petra now. Talking to him wasn't as bad as she'd thought. She just dreaded the idea of speaking about what had happened with him. She wasn't ready to forgive and she didn't think she'd ever forget.


End file.
